A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS
"Where did that sail come from?" demanded John, as he stopped abruptly
and looked in astonishment at the little skiff. Thrown carelessly across
it was a sail and small mast.
"Where did they come from?" he repeated.
"I didn't put them there," replied Fred.
"Who did then?"
"I don't know any more about it than you do."
"Well, somebody has been good to us and tried to help us get away from
this deserted island. What did that man say the name of it is?"
"Western Duck Island. There are a half-dozen of these islands, I remember
now."
"I shan't feel very badly if I never see nor hear of them again."
"We're all right now. We have a sail."
"Perhaps we are, though I haven't forgotten that that little Jap said we
are forty miles from Mackinac."
"What is forty miles to fellows who have got a boat and a sail?"
While the two boys were talking they had adjusted the mast and rigged the
little leg-of-mutton sail. It was plain to both boys that if conditions
continued favorable they had found an easier way by which they could
return to their hotel than by trying to row.
"Come on," called Fred cheerily, his courage now having returned in full
measure. "Come on. Don't let's stay here any longer than we have to."
"I'm with you," responded John. "Now who's going to sail this boat
first?"
"You are, by unanimous consent; I think it will be safer for the crew to
have you sitting in the stern than it will be to have you crawling around
the bow."
The mystery of the sail had not been explained, but whoever had left it
plainly had intended that it should be used.
The wind was light but the little skiff drew rapidly away from the shore
of Western Duck Island, and as he glanced behind him Fred said, "I feel
almost as Columbus must have felt when he set forth in his three tubs to
find a new world."
"I never knew that Columbus sailed in three boats before," laughed John.
"I didn't mean that Columbus himself sailed in three boats, at least at
the same time. I used his name as the name of his whole party. I forgot
for the minute what kind of material I was dealing with."
"Never you mind that," retorted John. "You just watch me while I sail
this boat. I'm going to head her up the shore toward Drummond Island. If
we can make that I think we'll be all right for the rest of the way."
"And if we don't make it what are you going to do?" said Fred more
seriously.
"It'll be time enough for me to explain to you, my friend, when the
occasion arrives. Meanwhile just see how smoothly we are speeding on our
way."
"You're almost a poet," laughed Fred, "and there isn't wind enough to
lift a feather. I think I'll take the oars and row."
John offered no objection and Fred accordingly seated himself and began
to row.
The day was warm and the beams of the sun, which now was high in the
eastern sky, were strongly reflected from the smooth waters of Lake
Huron. Indeed, it was not long before the wind died away and the boys
were nearly becalmed.
"We're almost as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean, aren't we,
Jack?" demanded Fred.
"No, we are not," said John. "Not at all, thank you. We're not idle and
we're not going to be. I'm going to have my crew keep on rowing."
"I hope you'll set a good example."
"That's just what I intend to do," said John. "You change places with me
and I'll show you how the thing ought to be done."
Without expressing the thought in his mind each boy was keeping a sharp
outlook over the waters for the swift little _Gadabout_. Both somehow
were expecting that the motor-boat either had not departed from the
region or would surely return when morning came.
An hour or more had elapsed, however, and no trace of the _Gadabout_ had
been discovered. Far away over the waters the faint trace of smoke left
by the passing lake steamers could be seen.
"This is a great job we have been thrown into, isn't it, Jack?" demanded
Fred at last.
"Yes, I think it is," acknowledged John. "That letter of yours seems to
make it worse, though. For the life of me I cannot understand how it came
to Western Duck Island."
"Maybe that man dropped it," suggested Fred.
"Do you mean the smuggler?"
"I guess that's what he is all right. I don't know what his name is yet,
but I mean the man that has a house over there on Cockburn Island."
"That's the man I mean," said John. "I think he's a smuggler. He may be,
but the thing that puzzles me most is how he got your letter, if he was
the one that dropped it over here on Western Duck Island."
"Yes, that's hard to explain," assented Fred, "but I guess if we knew
more about it we wouldn't find it quite so hard."
"What do you mean? Do you think that man wrote the letter?"
"No, I don't."
"Well, then what do you mean?"
"I guess I don't mean very much of anything. Fred, do you see how this
boat is leaking?"
Startled by the abrupt question, Fred glanced quickly at the spot in the
bottom of the boat which the little Japanese had repaired. The water
certainly was coming into the boat.
"What do you think, Jack?" demanded Fred quickly. "Shall we try to go
back?"
"Is that the direction in which we usually go?" retorted John.
"I would rather go back than go down."
"But I would rather go ahead than either."
"But the boat is certainly leaking. We have seen one storm on the lake
and we don't want to be caught in another, especially with a leaking old
tub like this."
"There isn't any storm and we aren't caught yet. Besides, I feel a little
puff of wind," John added, as he turned his face in the direction from
which the wind appeared to be coming.
John had been rowing for a half-hour or longer, and perspiration was
streaming down his face. Close to the water the air was cool, but as
there was no breeze it was well-nigh impossible for any one working as
hard as John had been to cool himself quickly.
"There's a little puff," he added, and once more the sail was hoisted and
for a little while the skiff moved steadily forward.
"John," suggested Fred a little later, "I think the best thing for us to
do is to try to get in the course of those lake boats. We can't see the
shore of Duck Island any longer and if we go far enough over to the west
and our skiff sinks, it may be that some one of those boats will pick us
up."
Whether or not it was the swifter action of the skiff the leak steadily
was becoming more apparent. Indeed, after a brief time Fred said, "Is
there anything on board we can use to bail this boat?"
"I haven't seen anything," answered John, and a hasty search quickly
revealed the fact that there was no implement on board which could be
used in the manner indicated by Fred.
The latter, however, taking his cap did his utmost to dip out the water,
which was steadily increasing in the bottom of the skiff, into the lake.
His efforts were unavailing, however, and in a brief time the boy, now
thoroughly alarmed, arose and said, "I tell you, Jack, this boat isn't
going to stay afloat very long."
John made no reply, but as he turned to look behind him Fred also glanced
in that direction, but the island from which they had departed had long
since disappeared from sight.
Far away in the west occasional trails of smoke could be seen, although
both boys were aware that doubtless such indications of the passing of
the steamers came within their vision long after the vessels themselves
had disappeared from the region.
It was speedily becoming manifest that the boys would be compelled to
struggle desperately in order to keep their sinking craft afloat. They
both clearly understood that they were Go Ahead Boys and were not to give
up easily, but the water was entering faster now and the peril
consequently became more threatening with every passing moment.
Almost in despair John looked toward the low lying streak of dark cloud
in the west which he clearly understood indicated the course of a passing
lake-boat. The mast meanwhile had been taken down and no attempt was made
to sail.
"Let's throw that thing overboard," suggested Fred in a voice sounding
strangely, even in his own ears.
"What thing?"
"Why, the mast and sail."
"Cut the sail and throw it overboard," ordered John, "but save the mast
as long as you can."
"What for?" demanded Fred.
"Hand me your handkerchief and I'll show you," answered John. Speedily
tying his own handkerchief to Fred's he then fastened both to the top of
the mast. "Somebody may see our signal of distress," he explained.
"Pull, Fred! Pull for all you're worth!" he hastily added. "We've got to
get nearer the boats if we ever make shore."
While Fred rowed, John was doing his utmost to bail the boat. He was
using his hands and his cap, but even with his utmost endeavors the depth
of the water in the slowly moving skiff did not decrease. Both boys were
toiling desperately now. Their faces were red and streaked with
perspiration. There was no evading the fact, however, that in spite of
all their efforts their progress still was slow and the peril of sinking
was steadily increasing.
At the mast-head floated the signal of distress. Neither of the boys was
speaking now and the silence that rested on the great stretch of waters
was unbroken.